


Expectations

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [8]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15520227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: What am I gonna do? - Murphy Brown, Uh Oh, Part 2





	Expectations

**Title:** Expectations  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Pairing:** Murphy/Jake; hints of Murphy/Jerry  
**Rating:** Grownups only. Sexytimes ahead.  
**Timeframe:** _Uh-oh_ (seasons 3 and 4)  
**A/N:** (1) I have a lot of really mixed emotions about how the events in Uh Oh played out. While a lot of it was done for laughs, there is also a lot of expectation on Murphy by the men in her life, assuming she will drop everything for them and their desires and she often feeds into that. This fic doesn’t “fix” anything, but I hope explores and expands on it enough to make some sense of the situation. More attention needs to be paid to Jerry, honestly, but there’s a whole other set of fics to manage that. (2) Some of the dialog in this comes directly from the episodes. I wish I were as witty as Diane and her writers room.  
**Disclaimer:** Yes, I do use dialog from the episode. No, I don’t make any money off of this. Diane English remains a Goddess and we are all her humble devoted.

 **Summary:** What am I gonna do? - Murphy Brown, Uh Oh, Part 2

**Washington DC, 1991**

In Murphy’s life, she’d never been so insulted, and she’d been banned from places no one was banned from, had tabloids rip her to pieces, and once been asked on a date by Donald Trump. But this was different. Gene Kinsella knew her. She was godmother to his kids for God’s sake. But there he’d stood in her office, asking if she knew who the father of her baby was. Telling her she needed to get married. Treating her like she was just a commodity and not a friend. Her boss, her friend, a man she’d championed had questioned her in a way that carved right to her soul. The logical, rational part of her knew that Gene was right to ask the questions he was asking in a management capacity, but she’d expected more from him. She should have made the rest of his hair fall out and told him it was Jerry Gold’s baby, but the truth was, that was insulting to Jerry, who was one of the few acting like a human through all of this. Even Frank wasn’t sure how to treat her right now. Only Eldin was truly happy for her - already the baby books were piling up and she’d noticed the orange juice and milk in the fridge.

Now she had to prove she could keep doing her job. She had to get the quote from the president on her health care story and she had to get on a plane to China in a few days and she really wasn’t sure how it was all going to happen. Right now, she couldn’t even get up off the stairs. God, she was tired.

As the anger faded but the insult lingered, fear returned. Dressed now in a pair of favorite jeans and an old t-shirt, she meant to settle in and work through the night on this health care story, but all she could do was focus on the microscopic creature now taking shape in her body. What felt so right the other day now made her question everything. What was she doing? Bringing a baby into her world? Into a world where no one but her house painter had welcomed her with joy?

She was scared and she was angry and she was insulted and all she could think about was how many women out there didn’t have any of the support she supposedly had. How many women were sitting there, scared, unsure where to go, and truly alone. All she could think about was that doctor’s office in Philadelphia, and the woman’s reassuring smile as she explained the procedure. What would it have been like if she’d had the baby? 1968. Alone. Trying to make a life for herself. Everything would have been different. Everything. She didn’t regret the decision then. And with Jake’s walking out, she didn’t regret it now. But she couldn’t help but wonder if really, her best option was another trip to her doctor. A choice she still had the right to make. Forget the fact that not a day went by over the last couple of years when she thought about the possibility of being a mother.

A mother.

There were two people who still didn’t know. She had no idea how to approach her father, but suddenly, for the first time in her adult (and most of her childhood) life, she needed to talk to her mother. Her briefcase stared at her from the foyer table, but she still walked to her phone, sat down, and dialed. Three rings later, her mother’s low, acerbic tone came across the line.

“Hi, Mom ….?” Murphy whispered, her voice catching in her throat. “Mom?”

“Murphy? What is it?!”

It wasn’t like her mother to show any concern. Then again, in her entire life, Murphy had never once called Avery Brown anything but Mother. The “mom” scared her, too.

“I have something to tell you,” Murphy began. “And I need you to not ask me any questions, okay? I need you to just let me tell you what happened.”

She heard the sharp intake of breath. “All right.” She imagined her mother taking a seat in the high wingback chair she favored, putting her feet up on the leather ottoman. She probably had a cup of tea. Tea sounded good. She stood up and walked to the kitchen to put her own kettle on.

Silence stretched. The insult, the fear, the hurt, it all sat on her. What would her high society mother think? The woman who raised her to wear hats and elegant suits and who questioned every art choice she ever made. She was going to be horrified. This was a mistake. Should she tell her about 1968?

“Murphy?” Avery asked, her sharp tone cutting into her. Suddenly she felt sixteen all over again.

“Mother,” she said, letting out a breath. “I need you to know something. And you need to know the whole truth.” And she meant it. Everything. Jake. Getting married. The abortion. This reunion. The fact that she wouldn’t be married this time around. She was doing this alone.

“So spit it out.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and Murphy just couldn’t breathe. She wiped her eyes, mascara and eyeliner coming off on her fingers, and she tried to find herself again. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, she steeled herself and made the announcement yet again. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Pure silence. Silence that spoke volumes. Full of judgement and anger. The longer it lasted, Murphy looked for reasons to hang up the phone. Then, she heard a gasp. A choke. A muffled sob. Great, on top of everything else, she’d made her mother cry.

“Murphy …” Avery said after too long a moment. “Oh, my daughter. I’ll be on the next plane. What do you need?”

She balked. And panicked. No. She wasn’t ready for that yet. No bonding yet. Not in person. She just needed to tell her. “No, Mother. I’m fine. Right now. Maybe … maybe next month? I’ve got a huge deadline and …”

“I understand,” Avery’s gravelly voice was suddenly a comfort. “But please, let me come see you soon. I … Murphy, this is beautiful news. I never expected a granddaughter. I always hoped you would have a child of your own, but I didn’t want to tell you how to live your life. I didn’t want to put pressure on you.”

“Really?” Tears started all over again. Of all the ways Avery had in fact told her to live her life, she had never told Murphy she wanted grandchildren. Murphy had fully expected the first question to be just like Gene, to ask about the father and if she knew what she was doing. Instead, her mother was just … happy for her. It made everything feel better.

“Well, I have questions, including about the man you are apparently seeing. But you’ve told me not to question you. So, of course, on your own time, you can tell me the details.”

Murphy took a shaky breath. “I think I want to tell you now, if you have time.”

“Okay,” Avery replied. “I’m listening.”

On shaking legs, Murphy went back to the stove and poured the boiling water over the tea bag. “I met Jake in 1968. At the Democratic convention …we protested together … we were arrested together. And when we were sentenced by the judge, he married us.”

Her mother’s gasp actually made her smile. “Murphy Brown!”

“I got it annulled five days later. It’s why I never told you or daddy. Jake went to Canada to avoid the draft and I had a job and school to get back to.” She returned to the kitchen table. “But mother … there’s something else you need to know.”

**Philadelphia, 1968**

She couldn’t stop puking. Whatever this was had started three days ago with a foggy headache that just made her feel like she was walking through quicksand. Now she was puking her guts out, which meant the stomach flu. Great. Right before classes were set to start and she had that internship. She couldn’t be sick.

“God, Murphy!” Carol was suddenly next to her in the stall and she squinted through runny eyes at her best friend. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“It’s just the stomach flu …” she lurched forward into the toilet again. Carol disappeared for a minute and came back with a cold washcloth and a small packet of crackers.

“Here,” her friend said. “This should help.”

“Because I want to eat in the bathroom?”

“It will settle your stomach.” Carol reached up and flushed the toilet and put the compress to Murphy’s head. “There.”

“Thanks.” Murphy caught her breath. The cracker did help. “God, I can’t afford to be sick now.” Carol didn’t say anything, but the look on her face was concerning. “What is it?”

“I’ve got five older sisters, Murphy. I know what morning sickness puke looks like. What happened? Are you okay?”

Murphy shook her head. “I don’t know what …”

A wave of nausea hit her again and she lurched forward. Carol freshened up the washcloth. “Weren’t you paying attention to anything when Mary was sick two months ago?”

“She was puking. That’s all I remember.” Murphy put her hand to her head. “I can’t …I can’t.”

Jake. No one knew about her fling with Jake. Not even Carol. It was so hard to even think about. To realize she’d been willing to throw everything away for this draft dodging radical who made her toes curl. Well, she’d have transferred to Northwestern if he’d stayed in Chicago. She wouldn’t have thrown everything away.

“I … no.”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Murphy shook her head, confused. “I … what? I can’t be pregnant.”

No. Wait.

It had been easier for her to get birth control in Chicago than it was here, but even still it was a headache for single women and it wasn’t like she’d been able to get on birth control right away after she and Jake said their vows. She and Jake had so much sex that they hadn’t always been careful and the pharmacist wasn’t always there to provide the condoms.

“I can’t …”

“Murphy, we need to get you to a doctor.”

She gripped her best friend’s arm. “No, Carol. You don’t understand. I. Can’t. Be. Pregnant.”

The silence in the bathroom could have made the mirrors crack. They knew how to handle this for friends. They’d sat outside bedrooms with extra thick menstrual pads, their finger poised to pick up the phone and call for an ambulance if the bleeding was too much. Mary had dropped out when she wouldn’t stop bleeding. Her parents had taken her home and last Carol had heard, she wasn’t even allowed to leave the house without a chaperone.

“I know,” Carol said in the voice she and Murphy had used with other friends. “Come on. You can tell me about it later. Let’s go make a call.”

Murphy stretched out a shaking hand and let Carol help her off the floor. This couldn’t be happening. Jake was in Canada. The marriage was annulled. She couldn’t be pregnant. She had a job starting. Classes to go to.

They walked back to her dorm room. Carol sat her on her bed and went rooting through the closet for something to wear. “Come on,” she said. “Get dressed. We’re going down to get you tested today. If you’re already throwing up, they’ll be able to tell.”

“Carol …”

Her friend turned and looked at her again. “Please tell me you weren’t hurt, Murphy. That’s all I’m asking.”

She took a breath, it finally sinking in what Carol was asking. “No. He’s a great guy. We met in Chicago. It just … didn’t work out.”

“You think you need to call and tell him?”

She took a breath and shook her head. Jake hadn’t exactly left a place where he could be reached. “No. He’ll never know and even if I could find him, I don’t think this would …” she bit her lip. “He wouldn’t be moved to make a trip or anything.”

“Okay. Get dressed. Let’s take care of this. There’s a private phone down the hall. I’m going to go make the call I need to make.” Carol was matter of fact and Murphy appreciated it. She knew it would be a few days before they could see the doctor. So, first things first. She had to get it confirmed. Carol disappeared. She pulled her clothes on and brushed her teeth. Who knew. Maybe it was just the stomach flu after all.

**Washington DC, 1991**

Murphy hated losing. She hated losing in the ratings, she hated losing on the softball field. She hated it. And losing to frigging Leslie Sthal just made her want to roast Miles on a spit and share him with the crew over at the alphabet network. 60 Minutes had, just like they were doing all season long, humiliated them.

So, she did what she could do. She insulted Corky. Because Corky needed to be insulted more. The woman was so damn perky and she didn’t know sports. Why did they let her play again? Her shoulder hurt and she was hungry. Only one of these things would be solved by letting Frank buy her a pizza, but she’d start there and then take a long bath and spend time with her new vibrator. It might not cure her shoulder, but it would relax her. Tonight was definitely a shave the legs, paint her nails, and let the conditioner set kind of night.

She turned from Frank to go grab her bag and her heart stopped. No. No. No. No. No. But there it was, tangible, physical. The cover of _The Electric Koolaid Acid Test_. The cover on the book she’d given Jake the day they got married. He’d lost his in the chaos at the convention so they found a used bookstore and she bought him a copy. This copy. She’d signed the title page with promises of naked readings. Goddamnit. Jake was here. Goddamnit. There went her plans for a relaxing night.  
  
Why the hell was he here and not in Kuwait?

She wanted to go grab that pizza with Frank. In Chicago or somewhere. Anywhere but here, where Jake would turn her life upside down again. She was still getting over Jerry not calling, having Jake around would complete her slow meltdown into full-on teenage girl.

But he was here. And Frank was … leaving. Because it was best. And suddenly, she and Jake were alone. Together. Even the intern seemed to have disappeared.

“I’m moving to Washington!” He’d announced.

He was moving to Washington.

He. Was. Moving. To. Washington.

The radical life had caught up to him. He’d pulled his back and thrown out his knee and the world wasn’t getting any better and maybe, just maybe, he could do something here.

He. Was. Moving. To. Washington. He wanted to get back together. He wanted to try it again. He wanted to get married again. And she was so damn tongue tied and lost in how he looked at her and how he made her heart skip a beat, all she could do was fall into his kiss and hope no one was watching.

He’d pushed her up against the coffee island and only the light clank of the mugs caught her attention. “Jake,” she whispered. “Jake, we need to stop.”

The look in his eyes matched her own mood, but she needed to get this out, before they ended up in front of a Judge.

“Come here.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him back into her office, which only resulted in him pushing her up against the door and his jacket and her jersey landing on the floor before she stopped them again. Gently, she moved his hand from her breast and pushed him back to arm’s length. “I need to get this out.”

“Okay?”

Somehow, she found her strength, even with him looking at her like she was the only woman on the planet. “What I said last time hasn’t changed. I lose something of myself when we’re together, Jake.” She took a breath and forced herself to meet him head on. She wasn’t 20 any more. “If we’re doing this, we’re not going to leap without looking. You’ve been overseas and if you’ve been celibate, I’m still twenty.” She appreciated that he had the grace to blush. “And it isn’t like I’ve been waiting around. So we’re going to at least … enjoy each other’s company and slow it down. Please. Let’s get our blood tests, let’s have lunch and dinner. Let’s talk, okay? Let’s actually date. Let’s not let the fact that I can’t think around you influence anything.”

“Maybe we both think too much …”

The smooth tones of his voice pissed her off and suddenly, she wanted to kill him. “Jake, when it comes to you, I have exactly two levels: pining and not thinking.” He was close again and she reached up and stroked his cheek before putting her hands on his shoulders to stop him from advancing. He wanted to get married again. Of course he did. That was his blasted MO. “The last time you proposed to me, you got out of bed the next morning and would have left before I woke up if you could have. That stung. I don’t know if I’m ready to rush back in, okay?”

“You …” he sighed and she watched his shoulders release, like he was shrugging off a huge weight. “You have a really good point. I can’t apologize for it.” Slowly, she lowered her arms and maneuvered so he couldn’t pin her.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Jake. It was an impulse then. But if you’re moving back here, if you’re serious, we can take our time. Okay?” Silence. He leaned in and kissed her and she let it happen until his hand was moving up her shirt again. “I mean it,” she groaned, pushing him away. “We’re taking our time.” Their mutual disappointment and frustration hung in the air, but she was serious. She wasn’t going to just jump back on top of him.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner,” he suggested. “We can talk.”

“Good idea,” she retrieved her softball jersey from the office floor and shrugged it back over her tank top. He collected his jacket and opened the door for her.

One step at a time.

So what if they made out in the elevator. And her car. And at the door of the restaurant.

One step at a time.

***

“It was fantastic! And when the show ended, the FBI was already there to question him. I love my job.”

They were sprawled on the floor of the month-to-month studio he was subletting from a buddy who was out of the country doing some travel writing. Between them was a mess of Chinese food containers and two cans of diet coke.

She was barefoot, her hair back in a loose ponytail, her suit jacket tossed over the futon. She’d brought dinner after the show and in this moment, she could see exactly how their lives would be together. Late mornings, late evenings, picnics in the living room while dissecting the latest points of political subterfuge. Still, all she could think about was earlier this afternoon, when he’d showed up to take her to lunch.

“Blood tests are good,” he teased as he closed the door to her office. She’d been on the phone, but still processed what he said and beckoned him closer to take his hand while she finished the call.

“Really, Senator,” her voice was sweet, almost cloying. “I promise you’ll get a fair shake tonight.” She rolled her eyes and pointed to the photograph she had of Senator Markey meeting with the head of one of the most notorious crime families in the country. “We’re excited to have you.” She'd smirked at Jake and he'd grinned at her. “See you tonight, Senator.”

Murphy hung up and looked up at him. “What was that you were saying?” She teased.

Jake had just grinned and tugged her hand enough so she stood up and stepped between his knees, draping her arms around his neck. “Well, I was saying that I’m clean so as long as you are, we can have sex,” he smirked and his eyes crinkled. “But now you’ve just given me a master class in how to lie to elected officials. And I thought journalists were supposed to have integrity.”

“I’m swimming in integrity.” She giggled. “You’re welcome.”

Silence. Familiar silence. He stroked his hand down her back and she stepped in closer. “We … lunch …” he murmured. Murphy was unable to take his eyes off her lips. She leaned in for a kiss that she’d been aching for.

“Jake …”

His lips were on her collarbone, kissing around the necklace. His hand moved to her blouse, his fingers on the buttons. She couldn't push him away. She couldn't say no. In fact, her hands were on his chest, tugging at his t-shirt, her fingers sliding up his torso.

As with any office quickie, it went too fast. But it had been three years since they'd seen each other, since they'd felt each other, since she'd listened to him gasp her name. She ignored the ringing of her phone, pushing him into her chair, and straddling him after sliding out of her underwear and hose. He’d clung to her after they came, holding her tighter than he ever had.

“Murphy …” he gasped. “I mean it …”

“I know …” she said, kissing him again. “I know.”

Now she was across from him, laughing about the Senator, but all she wanted to do was tug him back onto the futon. She needed to get out of there. He leaned over and kissed her but quickly, she pulled back.

“What is it?”

She shook her head and decided to be honest. It was the only way they were going to get through this. “My feet are still really cold about all of this, Jake. And when we get physical, I stop thinking. Case in point, my office today.”

He chuckled. “But it was good, wasn’t it?”

“It was amazing.” She took a final bite of her egg roll and sat up. “And tomorrow, we can try for lunch again, this time without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

Jake stood, groaning slightly into his creaking knees, and helped her to her feet. She kissed him though, and drowned just a bit in the smell of Old Spice and that natural musk that had always driven her crazy. Hope drove libido and he nudged her back onto the futon, pushing her skirt up as they landed on the sheets. They pawed at each other like teenagers, he slid his fingers past her underwear, teasing at her opening. Hers tugged at his zipper and she wrapped her hand around him.

She wasn’t one for blowjobs, but she still kissed her way down his body and moved to kneel before him, taking him in her mouth. His fingers tangled in her hair and she gave him points for not completely directing the action while she worked him. At least after he came (she turned and spit into the empty egg roll container) he repaid the favor. She cried out as his tongue taunted her clit, leaving both of them breathless.

“Well,” she sighed. “I meant to leave …”

He chuckled. “I … yeah.”

Again, he groaned as he stood up. He located his boxers and tugged them on. She slid back into her suit skirt and buttoned her blouse. “I’d better go,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Otherwise, I’ll say yes to things I’m not ready to say yes to. Despite this afternoon. And tonight.”

“Fair enough.” The kiss this time didn’t lead anywhere. “Murphy …”

“Me too,” she smiled and touched his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

After the door closed behind her, she paused in the hallway to catch her breath. This had better work out. She wasn’t sure either of them could handle the heartbreak if it didn’t.

**Philadelphia, 1968**

Murphy didn’t know what to do with her hands. She gripped them together in her lap, feeling the weight of a decision she shouldn’t have to make, wanting to defend behavior she didn’t need to defend. The doctor was gentle though, shushing her even as she tried to justify how she’d been married, but it didn’t work out and now …

But the doctor only shook her head and offered a hug. Murphy hadn’t expected a hug. She hadn’t expected the room to be warm and forgiving. She’d expected judgement and needles and possibly a melon ball to scrape out her insides.

Instead, the doctor took her time, explaining the procedure, explaining exactly what would be happening. Murphy held on to the armrest of the chair, trying to absorb the information. There would be a local anesthetic, and some bleeding. She’d need to stay off her feet for a week if possible.

Murphy tried to hand over the cash she’d borrowed from her father, but the doctor shook her head. No. Give it to planned parenthood. Work so this can be legal someday.

In that moment, Murphy understood. There would be zero record. No unexplained cash to be traced. Nothing. This afternoon would never happen. The doctor still hadn’t asked for her name.

They went through a door into a sterile exam room. Murphy did as she was told, disrobing and settling into the stirrups. The doctor worked alone. She administered the anesthetic and then sat to wait with Murphy.

“Are you okay?”

“Scared,” she admitted.

“Does the father know?”

“I don’t even know where he is,” Murphy admitted, tears filling her eyes. “This wasn’t exactly intended.”

“It’s okay. You know that, right?” The doctor took her hand. “You have nothing to feel ashamed for. And this is a perfectly normal medical procedure.”

“A baby would ruin everything.” Murphy took a breath, appreciating the comfort from the woman. “I can’t be pregnant right now.”

“Okay.” The doctor nodded. “I’m going to go scrub up. You take a breath. I’ll be back soon.”

**Washington, DC 1991**

She’d been ready to say yes, finally, to Jake before the doorbell rang. Before Jerry stood there, looking like a complete idiot in that whale suit, begging for a second chance. No. He wasn’t begging. He was expecting her to be ready to just jump back into bed with him. Really, much like Jake had. And that was what made her entire romantic worldview crumble. It was romantic on the surface to have these two amazing men competing for her attention, but really, she just felt like all they wanted was to see who could get in her pants first even if the realization did slow her down. After all, why was she rushing into this with Jake? If he was moving here, they had time.

After Jerry left, it took her far too long to blow out the candles Jake had lit for his over the top gesture. Her pattern was methodical in its chaos. Blow out a candle, sniff a rose, take off her suit jacket and leave it in the dry cleaning hamper in the laundry room. Blow out a candle, take off her jewelry, leave it on the table behind the couch with the intention of going upstairs with it. Blow out a candle, slide her bra out from under her shirt. Blow out a candle, finally chuck her suit pants and pull on the pair of jeans sitting on the washing machine. Blow out a candle.

She hadn’t planned on working tonight, but now she was stuck alone in the house with only her thoughts, a story she was behind on, and four cold corn dogs. She tossed two of them into the trash, warmed up the other two, grabbed a bottle of diet coke from the fridge, and sat back down with a knife to cut the caramel apples Jake had left behind.

 _I’m very confident about all of this_ , he’d said as he kissed her and walked out the door, leaving her behind with Jerry and a sudden disaster of emotions that took over her own confidence about Jake finally being settled down enough to give this a second try. Of course Jake was confident in all of this. He was always confident. That was part of the problem. He’d sauntered back into her life and asked her to marry him without even taking the time to discover if she had anyone in her life. What if she and Frank had been dating? Okay, disgusting example. But. She couldn’t understand why Jake wasn’t utterly terrified that it wouldn’t end exactly the same way it had last time. It was why she hadn’t had sex with him beyond that mistake in her office and, well, the nightly petting sessions that happened on either one of their couches. She needed her head clear because whatever it was between her and Jake, everything fell apart once his skin touched hers. After all, she was absolutely sure the whole newsroom had heard her come the other day.  
  
She’d been ready to say yes tonight, though. To lay out some rules, of course. She wanted to actually plan a wedding this time. It didn’t have to be anything fancy (though a harpist might be nice) and she wanted to see him supporting himself long term here in DC. She needed to see him stable. She’d been so ready and then Jerry had shown up in that damn whale costume and everything had come to a screeching halt.

Everywhere.

Goddamnit.

She’d been fine with Jerry going to Los Angeles. It hurt, but a nightly show opposite Carson was the chance of a lifetime. No one could turn that down. His intentions to take himself off of FYI to make things work between them couldn’t stand up to the reality of their lives. But she’d at least expected him to call at least once. The night he told her he’d leave FYI to keep their relationship going, it had felt like she’d finally found the guy who was truly perfect - well except for the fact that all of her friends hated him. But, in that moment she’d wanted nothing more than to know at night she’d come home to him and there would be dinner and they could argue about something and fall into bed and life would work out in the end.

But he’d gone to LA. And he hadn’t called. It was girlish and stupid, but he hadn’t called. One postcard, meant to taunt her. She’d burned it, along with one of the ties he’d left behind. Girlish and stupid, but he hadn’t called. And now, just like Jake, he was back in her life, expecting her to drop everything. So what if he knew exactly how many days they’d been apart - he still hadn’t called and now he’d shown up like he’d never left. Of course she would come running, she always did, right? Of course she was going to open her legs for him and welcome him back with open arms. He’d stood in her living room and pouted - actually pouted - because she dared to have someone else there. She’d dared to be happy.

Okay, now she was pissed.

The expectation of both of these assholes that she wouldn’t have anyone in her life, that she was happily waiting around for them and living life on their schedules, would be utterly infuriating if she wasn’t so completely married to her job. But they both knew her well enough to know that her most lasting relationship was with Betty, the skycap at Dulles. That pissed her off even more. How the hell did Jake, who hadn’t seen her in three years, know her as well as Jerry?

Betty’s birthday was coming up.

She leaned over and blew out the last of the candles, touching her finger to the rapidly cooling wax. It tightened around her skin, suffocating her, much like these two were already doing.

It shouldn’t be a question. Jerry had left, Jake was here. Logic said very specifically that this wasn’t a choice. Jake was here, offering her the life they’d dreamed of twenty years ago. But Jerry’s presence suddenly made her question everything. She was glad for Jake’s confidence because she was now completely out of sorts. What the hell was she doing, trying to make a decision like this in just a week? Couldn’t she and Jake date for a while? Why was there so much pressure from either of them?

God, this was awkward.

The corn dog was dry in her mouth, the apple mealy. She couldn’t tell if it was her own emotions or just that the cheap food sucked. Getting up, she tossed everything into the trash and walked back into the living room, blowing out the last candle.

The phone rang.

Nervous, she picked it up, and right on cue, there was Jake on the line.

“Jerry Gold?!” He said, his voice cutting through the receiver. “Jerry Gold! I just thought that was all a rumor!”

“No,” she said. Okay. His shock had worn off. He’d remembered his popular culture. “God, this is awkward.”

“Murphy …”

“You said you were confident about all of this …” she closed her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt in a vaguely familiar way that she hadn’t thought about in over twenty years. Fog was starting to creep around her body. “So. Be confident. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”  
She groaned and hung up and collapsed back onto the couch. Work would help. She could go back to the office. Or. She could stay here. Maybe if she fell asleep, when she woke up, all of this would be over.

**Philadelphia, 1968**

It hurt. It hurt so much. Her insides felt like they’d been scraped clean and the cramps made her entire body curl up on itself. She holed up in her dorm room, with layers of plastic bags between her and the mattress, just in case she bled through the pads.

She couldn’t eat. Carol offered shots of whiskey to dull the pain since aspirin seemed to make the bleeding worse. But, on day three, the bleeding started to let up. On day five, her appetite came back. On day eight, she walked into her first day of class, tired, but alive. Lenny Dodson moved to sit next to her, and she offered him a smile, but there wasn’t any way he was getting next to her.

Day twenty-two, the private phone rang. Lisa answered it and hollered for Murphy, who came trudging down the hall. Who but her parents would be calling her at this hour?

The voice came across the line. His voice. “Hey,”

Smooth and gentle and she wanted to reach for him and feel him work his body around hers at night. She wanted to gasp his name while he whispered sweet nothings about civil unrest in her ear. She wanted to laugh at his antics and wrap her arms around his waist. She wanted to be his wife. Murphy crashed into the chair next to the phone, her hand instinctively going to cover a baby that was no longer there. “Hi.” Disappointment flooded her and she blinked back tears.

“I know we said we wouldn’t call, but my buddies and I, we’re heading to South Africa. I just wanted to let you know. I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know what we did was impulsive, but you made me believe in love at first sight and I’m gonna love you, Murphy. No matter where our lives take us.”

She bit her lip, angry and scared and heartbroken. “Be careful.”

“Take care of yourself, Murphy,” he said, his voice low. She could just see how his eyes were crinkling. “And hey … I don’t regret what we did. I just think maybe the timing was wrong.”

“Me too,” she sniffed. “Take care, Jake.”

She hung up the phone, realizing her hand was still protecting the now empty section of abdomen. Taking a breath, she collected herself and marched right back down the hall. She had work to do and so did Jake Lowenstein. He wasn’t pining, and she had no reason to either.

**Washington DC, 1991**

The fog. The quicksand. The damn morning sickness that she could barely hide from Eldin. She knew. She’d felt all of this before. Since turning forty, her cycles weren’t always right on the money, but she knew. In her office, she’d crawled on top of Jake like a dog in heat and it wasn’t like she’d given a single thought to protection as she sank onto him and rode him until they both were gasping for breath.

God, it had been good.

And now she was paying for it.

Thank god her friends just thought she was torn between two men - which she was - but the longer she lingered, the angrier she became. How dare either of them stand around like she was the only tree in a kennel. Jerry had left and hadn’t called. Jake showed up from wherever he was on the planet and demanded her attention. And she’d tell both of them to shove off, but the problem was, they each occupied a special place in her heart and she was starting to be scared out of her mind that she never would find anyone. After all, who had the patience for someone like her? So far, only an old 60’s radical and his nemesis, an old 60’s conservative. Loneliness demanded certain affections.

Yeah, this was going so well.

Corky loved the drama and to be honest, Murphy didn’t mind the attention her friend was heaping on her over this. Especially since she was willing to forget how much she hated Jerry. Frank was pouting. Jim was annoyed. Miles just wanted the show produced.

Murphy was pregnant.

So she did the adult thing - she hid from her friends and colleagues. She called Carol more than once but hung up before the phone started to ring. She watched soap operas and worked late at night once everyone was out of the office. In front of Jake and Jerry, she was trying and failing to maintain any kind of sense of normalcy. She kept forgetting who she scheduled lunches with, and Jerry was a patient man, but his irritation with the whole situation was starting to show, which only pissed her off even more. Yes. He’d gone away for six months and hadn’t called and he got to be irritated that she hadn’t made a choice between him and a man who was willing to change his entire life. Him and a man who was the father of her second child.

How dare these two expect her to make a decision? What she needed to do was tell them both to shove it, but she also had a different decision to make. And as the days ticked on, she knew had to make it soon.

The truth was, which wasn’t good fodder for the pro-choice crowd who liked to talk about how hard a decision abortion was and how much the women who chose that route regretted it, she’d never second-guessed her decision in 1968. Until she woke up foggy and queasy, she’d never given more than a passing thought to the child who would have been. Even over the last two years, as her thoughts turned more and more to motherhood, she hadn’t beaten herself up. She’d done the right thing. The baby - who would be a fully fledged adult by now - would have derailed everything. Her life as a single, childless woman had created the perfect storm for her work overseas, for networks to trust her. She didn’t have a husband to check with before they sent her somewhere. She could just go. Her single status granted her a security that so many women in her business didn’t have. She didn’t regret her decision. But now, feeling all the familiar symptoms that she’d pushed away the last time, all Murphy could do when she looked at Jake was see a child they’d never had.

Still. She needed to confirm. Now at least, it didn’t involve a trip down to the clinic. Now she walked into a drugstore half an hour outside of DC, baseball cap and sunglasses firmly in place, and picked up the little box that promised easy, near-perfect results. The stoned clerk didn’t look twice at her and she shoved the box into her purse and headed home. She’d do the test in the morning. Of course. Before she went to work. That was smart. Tonight, she was staying in. Catching up on work. Tonight, things were going to be normal.

Tomorrow she’d figure it all out. She’d take another test, she’d talk to Frank. Maybe she was just hitting menopause or something.

But she was a week late.

She knew.

She was pregnant.

***

Later, when she was the most scared, she’d remember the hug Jake gave her. How he was shaking. It was the one thing that when she was alone at night and the baby was kicking, she’d remember how he clung to her. Later, when she was angry at him for breaking his promise to call, she’d remember the fear in his eyes. Jake Lowenstein was many things, and all of those things were why they couldn’t be together, but he did care about her, she knew. And under his fear of commitment, she knew he cared about their baby. But his walking out with the vague promise to call only solidified her decision back then. He wasn’t capable of being a father.

It was okay. She could do it alone. She had friends and support and she made a good living for herself. She could do this.

Later, she would be fine with it. Under her anger, she’d respect that he made the right decision for himself.

In the moment, hearing the door click shut behind him hurt more than anything she’d ever endured - including the pain after the procedure back then, when she’d survived on whiskey and prayer. Jake loved her enough on his terms, but he loved the idea of them, the memory of them. She was subject to his whims and fantasies. Much like she was with Jerry, really. But he wasn’t in this conversation. Not yet. She knew him, and he wasn’t one to blossom around children. In fact, they terrified him. It was good things had fallen apart when he went to LA. It saved the hurt.

So. From two suitors to none in near record time, too. This was impressive.

Somehow, she managed to get up from the couch, turn off the lights, and make it to the tub where she floated into the water, trying to relieve the headache. She sat in the darkness, lit only by the light from her bedroom, and let her fingers trail across the flat of her stomach.

Pregnant.

Underneath all that skin, tucked into organs she’d never really understood, a baby was growing. Cells dividing and duplicating. “Hi …” she whispered.

Tomorrow she’d have to tell Miles and the crew. She’d have to face them down and she knew none of them would understand this choice. Corky would be shocked a woman in her 40s was having sex, let alone getting pregnant. Frank would be grossed out. Miles would have a heart attack. But her mind focused on Jim, her mentor, her friend, the man who had saved her job more than once when the drinking had gone from a habit to a problem to almost ending her career. The man who had taken her to Betty Ford and listened to her deepest fears of failure and then turned around and made sure that when she was ready to come home, there was a job for her.

Jim couldn’t fix this one. This wouldn’t be swept under the rug and shrugged off as some quirk of genius. She had to face this herself and being the best in the business might not save her job this time.

Tomorrow she had to tell the gang. And figure out how to tell the network. Tomorrow, she had to let Jerry know. He deserved to know the truth. She was pregnant with another man’s child. Oh, how it fed his tabloid fanbase. Jerry Gold’s lover pregnant with the lovechild of radical 60’s activist Jake Lowenstein. On the next episode, we talk about how good she is in the sack.

She turned the faucet with her foot, adding some warm water and sinking into it, washing away her insecurities.

She was Murphy Brown. She’d weathered far worse than being pregnant and single. Really. She was going to be fine.

**Philadelphia, 1969**

Copy was due for the show, and Murphy ran down the hall toward her boss’ office to get it in before the deadline. She’d rewritten it four times and it was finally perfect. “Hey, Kelly?” Murphy raced into the other woman’s cramped office, the paper in hand. “I’ve got this for …”

She trailed off, her heart pounding. Kelly Rowland was packing a box. Not just a box of files, but a box of personal items.

“What’s going on?” Murphy furrowed her brow, coming forward. “Kelly?” What was happening and why was it happening right now?

Her boss shrugged. “Go give that to Mike,” she said. “He’s going on the air with it this afternoon.”

“But you do the 4 pm …”

Kelly shook her head and paused in her packing. She looked at Murphy and Murphy stared back, realizing for once she needed to shut up and listen. “You’re a smart girl, Murphy,” Kelly said. “You’re not married. Do yourself a favor, okay? Don’t get married and don’t get pregnant.” She shrugged. “Once you do, it’s all over. They can let you go for it, and they will. So don’t do it. Don’t enter into a contract where your life is handed over to someone else. You’re good, kid. Damn good. Don’t screw it up.”

Murphy held her breath as her boss walked out. Only after the elevator closed behind her did she realized she’d had her hand over her abdomen the whole time.

If she’d kept the baby, she’d be due right around now.

**Washington, DC, 1991**

They came back from commercial and Murphy steeled herself. Jim was talking. She tried to focus but her stomach had jumped into her head. She kept besting herself for “most nerve wracking thing ever done on the air.”

“And now,” he intoned, “Murphy Brown.”

“Thanks, Jim,” she said, smiling at him, before turning to the camera. “Tonight, I want to talk about an issue that is central to the focus of the conversation of family in this country, and one that over the last two months has become very important to me: single motherhood.” She took a deep breath. “The rumor mills have been working overtime lately,” she continued.

“Everyone from the Tattler to Entertainment Tonight to CNN wondering about the question that has sped through the media world - is Murphy Brown pregnant? Tonight, I announce that yes, I am. And, I, like millions of other pregnant, single women around the country woke up this morning, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and came to work. Unlike many of the pregnant, single women I shared a morning with, I have access to adequate health care, a supportive staff at work, and the ability to take the time I need as situations arise. The difference between me and these women? The amount of money in my bank account.”

Another breath, she squashed the nerves and need to puke, and kept talking. “As a rule in this country, we like to talk about personal freedoms, all the while shaming adults for making those choices. All too often, when a woman decides - as I did - to celebrate an unplanned pregnancy and choose to become a mother, her morals, ethics and values are questioned. In the last two months, I have had long time friends change their opinions about me, and people I respected and looked up to no longer return my calls. I have had my values questioned as a woman, and I have had those who hired me now question if I am able to do my job. I made a choice, like millions of women, to keep a child I had not planned for but that I am excited to bring into the world. Yet, when many women do exercise their legal choice to terminate an unplanned pregnancy, they must walk past protesters who question their very humanity. Had I made the choice to terminate this pregnancy, I’d have had the freedom and privacy of the services of my doctor whom I have been seeing for years and with whom I have a close relationship. No one would have known, and my privacy would have been respected. I’m lucky, and never has that reality been drilled home more than in the last two months while I have been navigating this decision.” She met the camera head on now, delivering the final punch of her commentary.

“The truth is, what happens in a woman’s bedroom, and in the privacy of her doctor’s office, is not for anyone’s judgement or approval other than her. Legally, that is the stance we have taken in this country. In 1973, the Supreme Court determined that a woman’s decisions are hers and hers alone. And it seems that far too many people in this country are still upset to discover that a woman is capable of making decisions without a man involved. Not that it’s anyone’s business, but I did not make this decision on my own. I had a conversation with this baby’s father, and he has made the choice, as his is right, to not be involved. Again, I am lucky. I have resources available to make that make this decision far easier than someone who has to decide if walking the protest line is worth the effort.”

She softened, just slightly. “We have a choice in this country. We can truly claim to be pro-life, and in doing so support not just conception but women through pregnancy and beyond. Or, we can admit what we actually are: only in favor of judging what a woman does with her body. I made the choice to have my baby. As do millions of women every year. And it is a choice that should be celebrated, just as we should honor the choice when a woman decides to terminate. We should be demanding our legislators be working on funding to support the single and partnered women who need it, and expanding health care to all. Because pregnancy isn’t just about conception. And the sad truth is that the so called pro-life camp in this country does not realize that.”

She nodded. “Back to you, Jim.”

He met her eyes and she could see just the softest smile around his lips. “Thank you for that, Murphy.” He turned back to the camera. “And this has been another edition of FYI. Goodnight.”

Miles was pale, the crew was silent. Murphy knew she’d get a call from upstairs before she made it back to her office. And then, Miles started to clap. One by one, everyone joined in and the cheers began.

“Now that!” Miles said as he came forward, “was a commentary.”

She bowed. “It felt good to say it too. Now. I’m done talking about it. Because …” she groaned. “Well. I’ll be back.” She took off for the bathroom.

***

She kicked off her heels as she came in the door and left a trail of her jacket and bag as she collapsed toward the couch. Eldin was actually gone. The house was quiet. It was pure bliss.

Well, mostly. The hormones she could barely keep in check were swirling around her and her ears were still ringing from Gene’s dressing down. Her hand rested over her stomach and she let the tears slide from her eyes. “Mama’s bringing you into a nasty world, kid. I’m sorry.”

The phone rang and she reached for it, ready for yet another lecture. Maybe it would be Jerry. He’d promised to call after the show tonight. She needed to learn to stop relying on that promise. Instead, it was Jake’s voice that greeted her.

“What do you want?” Came her response. She was angrier than she wanted to admit.

“I saw the show tonight. That was harsh, Murphy.”

“Where are you?” She could give a damn about his bruised ego. Jerry Gold was more a father to this baby, and she’d seen him exactly twice since she told him she was pregnant.

“Miami. We’re staging an action here about Cuba.”

She sighed. “You weren’t mentioned. No one knows. Don’t worry, it isn’t your precious reputation that’s getting sullied. I’m sorry you thought the song was about you.” Her eyes focused on her toes and how her hose obscured the lines between them.

“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.”

“So come back here.” The words shot out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Stop saving the world, Jake. Come back here and take some responsibility.”

“Murphy --”

“What?”

Silence. She didn’t care. She was tired and angry and he got to run off and she was being held up as the Slut of the Western World all the while his name - free from hers - was back in the headlines for yet again saving them all.

“You made this decision,” he said. “I told you --”

“And I’m still allowed to be pissed off, Jake. You asked me every single day you were in DC to marry you.”

“You weren’t going to say yes.”

“You didn’t want me to.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No you didn’t. You never do. If you did, you’d stay. Was The Gap was really that scary? You’ll sleep in fox holes for months on end, but three weeks in DC was too much? Come on, Jake. I was going to say yes. Even before the baby. I just needed time to process what it could mean for us. You said you’d call, and you know what, I was dumb enough to believe you. I didn’t think I’d care. You made your feelings clear. But dammit, Jake. You said you’d call. You said you’d care.”

Silence. She didn’t care how much he was hurting. She hurt too. He’d made promises he had no intention of keeping and tonight, with the weight of her choices on her, that was all that mattered.

“It’s your child, Jake. And I’m out there getting destroyed. Tonight, they threatened to fire me. Not because I advocated for reproductive health care but because I did it while pregnant. I’ve earned that network millions of dollars and they want to fire me because I didn’t check with them before we had sex. Add the fact that I’m single? So forgive me if I’m not thrilled that you’re down there in Miami being a hero and I’m here, hoping that in the morning, I’ll have a job.”

She could hear him almost ask it, almost suggest she come live his life. She gave him points for his restraint.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.”

She looked down at her hand, which was still protectively over her abdomen. Was it some kind of instinct mothers developed? The kid was the size of a lima bean and she needed to touch, needed to soothe. “I am too,” she said, her voice finally softening. “I wish we were able to do this together, but I do understand.”

He received points for not agreeing. After all, he didn’t want to be a father and she didn’t want him around if it meant he’d resent her. She could do this herself.

“Did you mean it?” She asked. “Do you care about this baby?”

“I do,” he said. “But I don’t know what to do with … all of this.”

“And you think I do?” Tears started again. “Jake, I am so scared right now. And you aren’t here. I’ve got Eldin and his insanity and my house always smells like fresh paint and even my closest friends don’t know what to say to me right now. I might as well have cancer.”

Silence. She didn’t care.

“The truth is,” she said, “you care more about strangers than you do about me or your child. And I get why. I used to chain myself to nuclear reactors too. But I don’t want you resenting me. I can do this on my own.”

“I know,” he said. And from the tone in his voice, she knew he meant more than he was saying. This rant at him wasn’t going to change anything, and she wasn’t sure she wanted it to.

She wiped tears away. “I hate you right now.”

“I know,” he said. That made both of them laugh. “Really?” He asked. “You’re doing okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. We both seem to be. I puke a lot. Which, you know, I should be used to after years of drinking scotch for all three meals.”

Silence. She cared. Just a little bit.

“I’m sorry your job is at stake.”

“Me too,” she said, the tears forming again. “But I’ll figure it out. If they cut me, I’ll see if Woolf wants me. They did once. They made some very promising offers.”

“You think they’ll take the risk? Cutting you?”

“I think Corky Sherwood brings in more viewers than I do. But we’ll see.” She wiped the tears away again and finally let out a long breath. She felt better. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I can try to come up after this …”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t say that. Because I’ll be fine doing this on my own and then you make a promise like that and I’ll just get angrier and angrier because it’s a promise you can’t keep. Stay gone. Or come back. I can’t have the back and forth. Not with you.”

She could tell she’d shocked him. She’d shocked herself.

“Okay,” he accepted. Too easily, really. “Is Gold there? Is he sticking this out?”

She tried not to get mad. “He promised to be here, and so far he’s taken me to dinner a couple of times. I wouldn’t call what we have a relationship, but he’s around. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah …” Jake said, his voice tense.  
“Don’t start. You left.”

“I know!” He shot back. “I know. Look, Murphy…”

“I know.”

“I gotta go,” Jake said.

Of course he did. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered. Damnit. Not the tears again.

“You too.”

She hung up and rolled over to bury her face in the cushions.

She hated needing people. She hated feeling vulnerable. Still, all she wanted was someone here to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay and not even Jerry was great at that right now. Instead, she took a breath, sat up, and made her way to the kitchen to make tea and then headed upstairs to the bathroom for a long shower. There was nothing different about her life right now - save for the bean in her belly. She’d always done things her own way. This would have to be the same.


End file.
